Work Text:
Tantáleioi Timōríai
The deep gash across Luo Binghe's chest aches as he drags himself up the steep hill leading towards the bamboo house. His joints ache from his journey; dirt and blood caked into his skin, Zheng Yang's weight on his hip feels heavier with every passing moment. Yet, despite is travel-weary state, every step makes Luo Binghe's heart warm and his sprits lift.
As the Bamboo house comes into view, he sees Ning Yingying slip out the front door. Her arms are laden with scrolls as she bids goodbye to a hidden figure with a smile.
She spots him quickly after the door closes, trotting down the hill to greet him.
"A-Luo, you're back!" Her grin is so bright Luo Binghe thinks if she could blind weaker men if she's wanted.
Luo Binghe greets her with a tired smile. "Ning Shijie."
Part of him itches to keep moving, to not waste time on pleasantries when there's someone waiting for him. Instead, he makes a careful inquiry: "How have things been in my absence?"
Ning Yingying gives him a knowing look, apparently able to deduce the real question buried in his bland question. Is he okay? is he still mad at me?
"He misses you."
The words strike a blow through Luo Binghe's heart.
"You didn't have to leave for so long, you know? He cooled down in a few days." Her voice is soft but there's something heavy there. Perhaps he is not the only who missed Luo Binghe.
He sighs. "I needed time. Needed to figure somethings out myself."
Ning Yingying looks at him, really looks at him. Her eyes taking in every detail, everything that has changed since they had last spoken, everything that had happened. Whatever she finds in him, it eases some of the worry in her face.
She nods her understanding.
"You should go see him."
Luo Binghe looks past her towards the beautiful house at the top of the hill, so many thoughts running though his mind. Ning Yingying said he missed him.
Does that mean he wants to see me? Will he greet me warmly after all this time? Will he really be happy to see me again? After everything?
He forces himself out of his own thoughts before they take over once more, before they drive him away from Qing Jing for another year.
When his eyes return to Ning Yingying, she's watching him expectantly her gaze tinged with something akin to pity. "I will. Thank you, Shijie."
He gives her a polite bow, ignoring the way his burning wounds and aching muscles protest the movement. Ning Yingying matches his bow, bidding him a subdued farewell as he makes his way towards that familiar house. Ning Yingying's eyes follow him the whole way, as though if she doesn't see him to the door in some way he'll once again disappear without a word.
The familiar door of the Bamboo house looms ahead of him, as he steps onto the old porch for the first time in almost two years. It looks exactly the same as the day he left.
Luo Binghe steels himself for the conversation to come.
He raises a hand and knocks twice before he can lose his nerve. The sound is deafeningly loud against the rushing in his ears.
"What did you forget this time, Ning Yingying?" The voice that calls out to him is fond, if a little exasperated.
Luo Binghe soaks in that voice, in that tone, knowing that as soon as the door swings open and the person on the other side of the door realizes who it is that knocked, that easy familiarity will slip away like sand through his grasping fingers.
Doubt wells up in Luo Binghe's heart.
For a moment he contemplates running again.
Contemplates mounting Zheng Yang and flying far away before he has to face the man on the other side of the door. Before he can decide one way or the other, the door is pulled open.
The man behind it is just as beautiful as he remembered, more beautiful even.
"Hello, Shizun."
Shen Qingqiu freezes when he sees him, the doting smile meant for Ning Yingying falling from his face in an instant just as Luo Binghe predicted. Luo Binghe braces himself for the scorn, for the anger, even for the hatred. He prepares himself to fall to his knees and take his deserved death with grace, for such is the price of each and every betrayal he has committed in leaving, in returning, in hoping that there is still a place for him here despite everything.
"Binghe…?"
He did not prepare himself for the face that meets him to be tinged with fearful hope. He did not prepare himself to hear his Shizun's voice crack against the familiar syllables of his name.
Luo Binghe does not know what to do with this homecoming he never even dared to let himself to dream of.
"Shizun, this disciple has returned. This one wishes to ask for his master's forgiveness."
He makes to drop to his knees, to press his forehead to Shen Qingqiu's soft slippers and plead his repentance, but he is not given the chance.
A swirl of green fabric crashes into him without warning with strength enough to make him stagger back. Thin arms come around him, wrapping tight, as his ever-austere Shizun all but throws himself at Luo Binghe in a desperate clinging hug. Luo Binghe's hands come around Shen Qingqiu's back, automatically keeping them both steady and perhaps even returning the embrace.
Luo Binghe is shocked to realize that his Shizun is shorter then him now; Only by a hairs breath but still enough to make his heart ache, a reminder of just how long it has been since he left. Shen Qingqiu is smaller under his hands than he had ever thought possible for his peerless immortal master. Always grander then life itself in Luo Binghe's adoring eyes.
"You came back," Shen Qingqiu breaths the words out like a prayer next to his ear. Luo Binghe has to fight to keep his knees from buckling under the weight of his relief.
Luo Binghe presses his face into Shen Qingqiu's hair, his heart clenching at the nostalgic yet ever familiar scent.
"This one could not bare the pain of separation any longer." Luo Binghe speaks, "No matter the cost, this one cannot keep himself from Shizun's side."
Shen Qingqiu pulls back a small bit. Luo Binghe forces himself to loosen his grip. Not enough to let go, but enough.
His Shizun stares up at him, sharp eyes taking in every detail of Luo Binghe's older frame. Nineteen is so much farther from seventeen then one thinks it is.
Luo Binghe is taller now of course, although he's still lanky and on the thinner side from what one might expect from someone of his calibre. Not quite done filling out, but nowhere near the scrawny teenager he had been when they parted.
Shen Qingqiu's hands come off his back. Luo Binghe braces himself to let go, expecting this one show of affection to be the width and breadth of his returning gift from Shizun.
Luo Binghe is surprised, however, when instead of letting go, Shen Qingqiu's hands cup his face with a surprising tenderness. He tilts Luo Binghe's face down ever so slightly, bridging the small gap of their height to press a soft kiss against the flickering red zuiyin on his forehead.
Luo Binghe's legs feel like jelly under Shen Qingqiu's gentle lips. It's a miracle he doesn't collapse to his knees on the spot.
Shen Qingqiu pulls back, his hand sliding down from Luo Binghe's face to his shoulder, to rest just above his heart. Luo Binghe flinches imperceptibly at the pressure against his wounds.
Shen Qingqiu's face switches from adoring relief to worry in an instant.
"You're hurt?" he asks.
Luo Binghe shifts, his arms reluctantly falling from Shizun's side. "It's nothing serious, Shizun shouldn't worry."
Shen Qingqiu pins him with a disapproving look and his heart ache with nostalgia. "Nonsense. Of course this master is going to worry about his injured disciple. Especially after not seeing him for nearly two years!"
Luo Binghe blushes at how matter-of-fact Shizun calls him his disciple. "Mn, of course, Shizun. This disciple should not have implied otherwise."
"Here, come inside now and let me take a look at that." Shen Qingqiu instructs, gesturing him inside before directing Luo Binghe to take a seat on the stool in front of his vanity. Luo Binghe follows obediently, sitting down without a word while Shen Qingqiu bustles around the bamboo house gathering supplies.
Eventually, he returns with a deep bowl of clean water and an armful of bandages and medicines. He stows it all carefully on the vanity table before turning to Luo Binghe once more.
His Shizun begins to tug at the ties of Luo Binghe's robes. Gently stripping him of each dirty, blood-stiffened layer as Luo Binghe sits there dumbly unsure of what to do with himself.
He lets out a slight hiss when Shen Qingqiu carefully removes his under robe, the torn fabric having stuck to the bloody mess over Luo Binghe's heart. Shizun winces with him, shooting apologetic glances as he does.
Once Shen Qingqiu has stripped Luo Binghe down to just his trousers, he surveys the damage with a deep frown. Dirt is caked into the skin from months of travel, smeared patches of dried blood littering the area. Some of it from wounds long healed, some of it not.
It's really not that bad, all things considered—as long as you ignore the big gash across the left side of his chest.
It's deeper than other wounds he's gotten and healed. He's had it for a while now, but for some reason even his demonic blood can't get the stubborn thing to stay closed. He tried to force it to heal a couple of times—force his skin to knit back together—only for it to split back open after a few hours, fresh blood blooming though his robes.
Shen Qingqiu tsks unhappily at the bloody mess. "Not even bandaged. Really, Binghe. Is this how you live when this master is not around to take care of you?"
Luo Binghe winces at the scolding. "Sorry, Shizun."
He doesn’t mention how he used to bandage it, used to make sure to clean it and wrap it every morning and night. How he would burn through what little money he had on bandages only to bleed through them in only a few hours.
Shen Qingqiu sighs before dampening his cloth in the waiting bowl. Gently, he begins to dab the rough fabric over Binghe's bloody chest, wiping away the mess of blood and dirt until it is free of grime and the wound is clean. Luo Binghe shutters as the cool cloth drags over his warm skin. He's not sure how long Shizun spends just running the cloth back and forth over his chest. The only thing that indicates the passage of time is the slow muddying of the water from clear, to pink, to muddy red.
Eventually Binghe finds himself again. He catches Shizun's wrist in his hand stilling him.
"It can't get any cleaner, Shizun," he says with a nervous smile.
Shen Qingqiu blinks down at him, His cheeks going slightly pink, "Oh, yes, of course. This master was just. Being thorough."
Binghe reluctantly releases his wrist and Shen Qingqiu sets the cloth aside with a cough before picking up the bandages and salve. He gathers some of the salve on two fingers before slathering over the freshly cleaned wound. Luo Binghe starts slightly when the feeling of cool autumn air pools under his skin flowing around the wound in calming eddies.
He looks up at Shen Qingqiu questioningly. Their eyes meet for a moment before the older man looks away shyly. "This master is just using a Qi little to help with the pain, its the least he can do after… What happened."
Luo Binghe winces at the reminder but smiles sadly, "It's not Shizun's fault, this one chose to leave."
Shizun pouts, "You wouldn't have left if this master didn't react so poorly when you told him the truth." He winds the bandages snugly around Luo Binghe's chest as he speaks, careful not to disturb the medicine too much as he binds the weeping wound.
"This one should not have hid things from Shizun for so long. It’s natural that Shizun felt betrayed learning it the way he did. Anyone would react poorly in Shizun's situation." Luo Binghe reassures, Ignoring the way his heart squeezes at the melancholy way Shizun talks about that day.
Shen Qingqiu ties off the bandage before shifting his gaze to Luo Binghe's once more. Luo Binghe can see the endless well of sadness hiding just behind those dark eyes, but when he opens his mouth to continue his reassurances Shen Qingqiu interrupts him with a hand on his cheek.
"When did my little sheep become so mature and grown?" he murmurs.
Luo Binghe blushes at the sweet tone. "Shizun is a very good teacher."
"Tsk, flattery and nonsense, the fine man Binghe is now cannot be attributed to this old master. You've surely outgrown me by now."
Shen Qingqiu states this with a quiet surety that makes Luo Binghe's heart ache, that shizun thinks such himself so easily discarded horrifies him. He cries out indignantly, "This one could never outgrow Shizun!"
Shen Qingqiu flushes at that, a fan appearing in his hand to shield his thin face.
Luo Binghe grabs Shen Qingqiu's hand, gently pulling the fan away from his Shizun's red face. "This disciple means it. This disciple does not want to live away from Shizun. Ever."
"Why did you leave for so long then?" Shen Qingqiu asks, his quiet voice almost fearful.
"This one… This one needed to prove to Shizun, to himself that he could still be good even as a demon." He turns Shen Qingqiu's hand over in his, feeling the sword calluses scrap against his palms. "And… this one thought Shizun hated him for what he is. He—I—was too afraid to come back."
"Oh, Binghe…." Shen Qingqiu's free hand comes up to cup Luo Binghe's face again, he leans into the gentle touch without question. Shen Qingqiu's eyes flick down towards his lips for just a moment before returning to meet his gaze. The older man looks conflicted for a moment. Luo Binghe opens his mouth to ask what Shen Qingqiu is contemplating, but before he can say anything his Shizun's mouth crashes into his.
Luo Binghe lets out a startled sound that makes Shen Qingqiu flinch. He tries to pull away, but Luo Binghe reels him back in. He presses his tongue along the seam of Shen Qingqiu's lips in a question, his Shizun's lips part immediately in answer, letting Luo Binghe's tongue with ease.
Shen Qingqiu melts into him, his arm looping around Luo Binghe's shoulders as he sinks down to sit in his estranged student's lap, leaving Luo Binghe's arms full of fluttering green robes and Shizun.
"Hhn, Shizun…?"
The hand in Luo Binghe's flips over as Shen Qingqiu laces their fingers together, giving Luo Binghe's hand a tight squeeze as his Shizun's tongue teases at his lips.
Time and space twists and melts around them as the kiss deepens further. Shen Qingqiu's free hand winds into Luo Binghe's ponytail. He tugs gently at his hair, drawing soft breathless sounds from Luo Binghe's mouth into his own, drinking them down before they can grace even the ears of the gods.
They kiss for like this for an eternity, breathless yet breathing, never surfacing for more then a second before disappearing into each other again and again. Luo Binghe begins to lose track of where he ends and where Shen Qingqiu starts, his hand slides along Shen Qingqiu's back pulling him infinitely closer. There's an ocean between them; there's nothing but air; they're pressed into each other so tightly Luo Binghe can feel the beat of Shen Qingqiu's heart under his skin.
When they finally break away from each other, Luo Binghe feels like the ground has fallen out from under him. Breathing heavily, Shizun stares down at him, face flushed and pink-lipped from kissing.
Luo Binghe can't handle it. He's going to do something stupid if Shizun keeps looking at him like that, so he buries his face against Shen Qingqiu's neck, still panting heavily.
Tears prick at his eyes, and a small sniffles escapes him before he can stop it.
"Binghe? What's wrong? Should I not have—?" Shen Qingqiu's voice becomes tinged with fear. He lets go of Luo Binghe's hand to curve around the face pressed into his neck.
"S'nothing Shizun— This— This one never dared hope that Shizun would ever actually look at him like that." Luo Binghe sniffles.
"Like what?" Shen Qingqiu asks.
Luo Binghe huffs, a sad wet laugh. "Like he actually loves this one."
"Of course this master loves you!?" exclaims his Shizun.
He lets out a small sigh, trying to blink away the dampness. "Like a master loves his disciples, not…, not like a husband loves his wife."
"I— Well—" Shen Qingqiu's face flushes a deep pink. A fan materializes in his hand, thumping softly against Luo Binghe's head. "A wife! A wife of all things! Where do you get these strange ideas from!?"
Luo Binghe deflates a little, Perhaps it really is too good to be true.
"Shizun is right. It's… nonsense," He pulls away from Shen Qingqiu, averting his eyes. "This one apologizes. It was presumptuous of him to speak of such ideas. Of Shizun loving me."
Shen Qingqiu frowns, "Binghe… This master— I—I never said I didn't… love you."
"Do you?"
"I, well— Well! I don't kiss people just because I feel like it," Shen Qingqiu pouts, face peeking out from behind his fan.
Luo Binghe stares at his Shizun, wide-eyed and stunned silent.
Shen Qingqiu flicks the fan nervously unable to look Luo Binghe in the eye for even a moment. Before he can talk himself out of it, Luo Binghe pushes forward, pressing his mouth back against Shen Qingqiu's like a man starved. Shen Qingqiu lets out a startled sound, but relaxes into him immediately with a pleased hum. His hands begin to roam over Luo Binghe's bare chest, skirting carefully around the bandages to press and knead at soft skin and uninjured flesh.
Luo Binghe's hands settle over Shen Qingqiu's back, rubbing soft circles into his hips and spine though the gauzy fabric of his robes.
Shen Qingqiu nips at his lip carefully through the kiss and Luo Binghe's world spins on its axis. Without thinking, he slides his hand down the inside of Shen Qingqiu's thigh, digging his nails into the fabric as he squeezes tightly.
Shen Qingqiu makes a bitten off sound that sends Luo Binghe's blood rushing away from his head. He pulls his Shizun impossibly closer, pushing deeper into his mouth, simultaneously trying to devour the man whole or merge them into one. He doesn't know which—maybe both?
Shen Qingqiu squirms in his crushing grip, a prey animal trapped in the jaws of a predator. His hand pulls Luo Binghe's from where its gripping at his thigh, ripping holes in the expensive fabric. Luo Binghe lets Shen Qingqiu guide him to the ties of his robes, his intent clear.
Luo Binghe does not need to be told twice: he hooks his fingers into the ties, pulling them free sharply, heedless of the ones that rip free rather than come undone.
The kiss breaks as his Shizun gasps for air, and Luo Binghe switches to mouthing his way along Shen Qingqiu's neck and jaw, sucking red and pink marks into his pale delicate skin as he works on stripping away the many layers of robes between him and his Shizun's skin.
Shen Qingqiu pants and squirms under Luo Binghe's deft hands, getting more and more worked up. Kneading his skin, pushing in closer, grinding his hips down. Once the final layers puddle to the ground around them, Luo Binghe recaptures his Shizun's lips, dragging him closer till finally, Shen Qingqiu is well and truly seated in his lap legs bracketing his thighs.
Luo Binghe pushes his tongue back into Shen Qingqiu's mouth, nipping sharply at his lips. He can feel the way Shizun's whole body jumps under his hands when he does.
Shen Qingqiu pants against Luo Binghe's mouth, grinding himself forward, deeper into Luo Binghe's embrace. Chasing the barely there friction. His right hand comes down between them.
Luo Binghe jolts when his Shizun's long fingers begin poking at the ties of his pants, groping at the heavy warmth of his cock though the fabric.
Rutting forward into the hand instinctively, Luo Binghe digs his fingers into the slender padding of Shen Qingqiu's ass hard enough to bruise, relishing in the wounded sounds he pours into Luo Binghe's mouth.
The music is too much; the sound, the feeling, he needs more. Luo Binghe's control cracks.
He slips his arms under Shen Qingqiu's butt, hoisting the older man into his arms as he stands up. His Shizun squawks, startled, tightly wrapping his legs around Luo Binghe's waist before throwing his arms over Luo Binghe's shoulders to keep his balance.
"Binghe—!"
He presses a soft wet kisses into the soft skin of Shen Qingqiu's neck. "Don't worry Shizun, this one is going to apologize properly for his long absence."
"Binghe, that's… really not necessary? You have nothing to apologize for?" Shen Qingqiu's stutters, "Where are you taking me?! Binghe!"
Luo Binghe keeps his silence, pressing his nose sweetly into his Shizun's neck as he carries his confused master through the bamboo house, until they reach Shen Qingqiu's bedroom.
He pushes the already ajar door open further with his hips.
Moving swiftly towards the silk sheets, Luo Binghe lets them both fall into bed with a soft thwump once his knees hit the edge of the cot.
Shen Qingqiu lets out a startled yell and they fall together, clutching harshly at Luo Binghe's shoulders and pressing his face into his bandaged chest.
Only once he's sure he's not going to be crushed by a hundred plus pounds of overeager half demon does Shen Qingqiu let his head fall back into the bed.
Luo Binghe stares down at his Shizun with blinding adoration. Laid out like this — that startled pink flush on his cheeks, his long dark hair a perfect halo around him — Luo Binghe's can't help but to believe that this, this right here is all he will ever need in his life. Anything else in the world would pale in comparison to this moment right here.
His heart squeezes painfully in his chest; the wound bleeds, and Luo Binghe gives in to his most base urge. Leaning down, he presses a chaste kiss against his Shizun's mouth. Gentle, perhaps even loving if Luo Binghe dares.
Shen Qingqiu's hand comes up to cup Luo Binghe's face as he returns the kiss, just as sweetly.
"Binghe…"
Luo Binghe nuzzles along the side of Shen Qingqiu's throat. "Let me take care of you, Shizun," he breathes out, gentle hands running up and down the planes of Shen Qingqiu's skin. "Please.. trust me."
He feels his Shizun's breath hitch slightly underneath him. "Oh—Okay," he whispers. "I trust you."
Shen Qingqiu's voice sounds distant, but Luo Binghe's heart still soars at those three words. He sucks a wet mark into Shen Qingqiu's pale skin, relishing in the way he squirms under Luo Binghe's ministrations. His hands run along the sharp curve of Shen Qingqiu's hip, fingers skirting under the band of his master's trousers. Every time Luo Binghe presses forward, he feels his Shizun jump under him.
Still, Shizun presses closer into him him, foreign touch startling but welcome. Slowly Shen Qingqiu grows braver, letting his hands explore the curves and dips of Luo Binghe's body in his own right.
Luo Binghe rewards his bravery by sucking more pink marks into his Shizun's skin, pulling loose the ties and slipping his hand fully into Shen Qingqiu's pants.
"Ah—Binghe!" His Shizun's hips roll up instinctively when Luo Binghe's hand wraps around his dick. Luo Binghe moves his touch up and down the half hard shaft of Shen Qingqiu's cock, memorizing every ridge and curve, the heavy warmth in his hand. He runs the pad of his thumb over the slit of Shen Qingqiu's cock, relishing at the warm beads of precum smearing against his skin. Shen Qingqiu pants and squirms under him at the too-much too-little stimulation.
Luo Binghe pays him no mind. He pulls his hand from Shen Qingqiu's cock, locking eyes with the flustered man as he brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks it clean.
Shen Qingqiu blushes a deep beautiful red, before bringing his hands up to cover his cracking thin face. Luo Binghe huffs a laugh. He pulls Shen Qingqiu's hand from his face so he can press a sweet kiss to his Shizun's cheek.
He hooks his fingers into the waistband of Shen Qingqiu's pants, smiling to himself when Shen Qingqiu lifts his hips off the bed to help as Luo Binghe finally pulls off the pants, baring all of his master to him.
Shizun's cock bounces slightly before coming to rest against the soft plain of his stomach. Luo Binghe almost weeps at the sight of it. He is a starved man standing before a feast. His mouth waters, and he cannot help but eat his full.
Luo Binghe settles between his Shizun's pale thighs. His hands map out the sensitive skin automatically as he descends upon Shen Qingqiu, taking the full length of his dick into his mouth in one go.
Shen Qingqiu cries out.
He buries his hand in the thick curls of Luo Binghe's hair, holding him in place as he rolls his hips up, instinctively thrusting up into his disciples throat.
Luo Binghe hums deep in his throat, nearly purring at the feeling of Shizun using him. The vibration makes Shen Qingqiu gasp. His hips buck up into the soft wet warmth of Luo Binghe's mouth.
Luo Binghe hollows his cheeks around the hard length of cock invading his mouth, bobbing his head, swirling his tongue along the underside. He feels the pulse of Shen Qingqiu's cock deep in his throat as he forces himself to take his master all the way to the root.
The fullness is so total, so complete. Luo Binghe lets his throat contract, gagging himself on Shen Qingqiu's warmth heedless of his brain's need for things like air.
He revels in the way Shen Qingqiu shudders and moans at the tightness of his throat, the hand gripping his hair like a lifeline as Luo Binghe suckles on Shen Qingqiu's cock like it contains the sweetest of milk for him and him alone. If it was up to him, Luo Binghe would have let himself suffocate just keep Shizun inside him.
Much to his dismay, it's not up to him. When Luo Binghe doesn't come up for air in a timely manner, Shen Qingqiu takes it upon himself to pull the needy suckling pup off him to make sure he doesn't suffocate himself in his eagerness.
Pulled off his Shizun's cock with a wet pop, Luo Binghe lets out a mournful sound. He looks up at Shen Qingqiu with a look of debauched ecstasy on his face.
"Shiiizunnn," Luo Binghe whines, nuzzling against Shen Qingqiu's cock not unlike a dog begging for his treat back after tying to eat it too fast the first time. Luo Binghe's face is pinked from a lack of air, strings of drool still connect his open mouth to the cock resting obscenely against his face.
Shen Qingqiu almost cums right there—it's a near thing. He squeezes his eyes shut to push away such a dangerous image for his poor cracked composure. Once he's sure he's not going to cum from just the warmth of Luo Binghe's breath against his sensitive dick, he opens his eyes once more.
The pleading face of a wrecked protagonist greets him, tongue lapping sadly along the underside of his dick in lieu of being allowed to sink back onto it.
Shen Qingqiu gives the man between is legs a sharp look, perhaps undercut by the deep blush staining his cheeks or the heavy rise and fall of his chest. "Pace yourself, okay?"
Luo Binghe gives a half-hearted nod, eyes still fixed on his master's cock. Shen Qingqiu gives his hair a sharp tug, forcing Luo Binghe's attention up to his face. "You're going to do as I say, yes?"
Luo Binghe's vision glazes over a little at the sudden spark of pain along his scalp. "Yes Shizun—" he nods vigorously, hair still held firmly in his master's grip.
Only after Shen Qingqiu is satisfied that Luo Binghe won't kill himself on his dick does he loosen his grip on his hair, cautiously letting Luo Binghe take his cock back into his mouth. Luo Binghe manages to do as he's told, just barely, keeping himself from once again trying to choke himself on his Shizun's cock. He rests his head against Shen Qingqiu's thigh as he works his mouth up and down the shaft.
His hand slides up the back of Shen Qingqiu's thigh as he sucks before slipping down again to cupping the soft curve of his butt. With this he takes his time, acclimatizing Shen Qingqiu to his touch, working his way closer and closer to his prize.
It doesn't take too long for Luo Binghe to find it, fingers ghosting over the puckered hole. Shen Qingqiu's jolts when he feels Luo Binghe begin to press at the edges of that place. He squirms as soft fingers begin to massage at the tight ring of muscle, wordless asking to be allowed entry. Shen Qingqiu shutters under the ministrations of hand and mouth, body relaxing into the feelings instinctively.
A single finger slips inside of him with a gentle pop. The foreign feeling punches the breath out of him as his whole boy tenses around the intruding digit. Luo Binghe's head spins as Shen Qingqiu's body squeezes his finger so so tightly. He rocks shallowly into Shen Qingqiu's hole, the cock in his mouth twitching in perfect time with his gentle thrusts.
Shizun rolls his hips trying pushing Luo Binghe's finger deeper inside but he refuses, only shallowly thrusting for a few moment before pulling pulling his finger free completely. Memorizes the way Shen Qingqiu's hole clings to him as he pulls out. Hand still fisted tight in Luo Binghe's hair, Shen Qingqiu lets out a mournful whine at the loss, canting his hips prettily to try and get him to come back.
His pleas are answered quickly enough.
Shen Qingqiu jumps as Luo Binghe's oil slicked fingers return, two fingers kneading gently at his rim once again asking to be let in. Shen Qingqiu doesn't resist it this time, desperate for more of that strange fullness. The oil lets Luo Binghe slide in easily. He pushes much farther this time, mapping out the soft flesh of his Shizun's body, stretching and prodding as Shen Qingqiu twitches under his touch.
It doesn't take Luo Binghe long to find what he's looking for.
The walls contract tightly around Luo Binghe's fingers, the cock in his mouth jumping as his finger presses up in just the right spot. Shen Qingqiu cries out, back arching into the feeling.
"Ah— Binghe!?"
Luo Binghe does not respond, much too occupied with this new discovery. He begins to bully his fingers against that perfect spot, thrusting up into it over and over, joyfully wringing pleasure from his master. At the same time he puts his mouth back to work with a vengeance, sucking greedily up and down the length of Shen Qingqiu's cock. Pushes down until the hot head presses deep into his throat using the involuntary contraction of his body to mimic the way Shen Qingqiu's own hole squeezes and shutters under the onslaught of his fingers.
Shen Qingqiu cries as Luo Binghe takes him apart by hand and mouth. "B—Binghe— Ah, pleas—" his master begs, hips kicking back into the overstimulating waves of pleasure.
His grip on Luo Binghe's hair turns iron as the need grows too much. As he cant help but chase his own pleasure. Holding Luo Binghe's head still, he begins to fuck harshly up into his throat.
Luo Binghe relishes in being an object for his shizun's pleasure, letting his jaw go slack, giving Shen Qingqiu complete control of his mouth. He redoubles his assault and attention to working his master's hole into a gaping wet mess, syncing his fingers with the rhythm of Shen Qingqiu's cock thrusting into his mouth.
Every brush of his fingers against that one perfect spot sending shock waves through this teacher's body, over and over.
Shen Qingqiu's thrusts grow more and more erratic. Egged on by Luo Binghe's fingers inside him, he begins to unravel. Snapping his hips up hard, he sends his cock deep into Luo Binghe's throat as Luo Binghe thrusts his fingers hard into his prostate.
Shen Qingqiu's body quakes under the electric waves as he finally shoots thick ropes of cum down Luo Binghe's throat.
Luo Binghe, ever the filial student, swallows down every drop, continuing to suck gently on his Shizun's softening dick as his fingers work Shen Qingqiu through the aftershocks of his orgasm.
Once Shen Qingqiu is well and truly floating on the clouds of his haze, Luo Binghe deems it okay to pull his fingers out from inside his fluttering hole. He continues to suckle on Shen Qingqiu's soft cock, trying to milk whatever cum he can still get from it heedless of Shen Qingqiu's growing overstimulation.
"Uh—uhg Binghe— Binghe, enough—" Shen Qingqiu whimpers, forcing his shaky muscles to obey long enough to pry the sticky man off his dick.
Luo Binghe comes off it with a obscene pop, his face flushed, and lips wet with spit and maybe a little cum. The obscene image shoots a bolt of heat directly to Shen Qingqiu's already overworked cock.
He sits up on his elbow, untangling his hand from the mane of Luo Binghe hair so that he can cup his face. "Binghe has given this master more than enough attention," Shen Qingqiu hums, "He should indulge himself as well, shouldn't he?"
Saving what little face he has left by redirecting Binghe to focus on his own pleasure, he gestures down to the much too large tent in Luo Binghe's pants.
Luo Binghe's eyes go wide as saucers. "Shizun means—? I can—?"
He flushes deeply despite their previous activities, somehow not having imagined Shen Qingqiu would actually let him go that far.
"Of course," Shen Qingqiu says, a soft indulgent smile on his face.
Quickly, Luo Binghe strips himself of his own pants, nearly falling with how fast he returns to his spot between his Shizun's legs. His cock is painfully hard, resting against Shen Qingqiu's stomach. It dwarfs Shizun's soft cock by an impressive degree.
Shen Qingqiu stares down at is with apprehension.
"That…That is not going to fit," Shen Qingqiu squeaks, sitting up on his elbows sharply while trying to scoot away.
Luo Binghe smiles shyly smile down at his master.
"Shizun said he trusts me," he whispers the words as he leans down, pressing a heavy hand against the other's shoulder. "Trust me Shizun, it will fit."
Shen Qingqiu squirms under him for a moment, reconsidering, before letting Luo Binghe push him back down. Luo Binghe brings Shen Qingqiu's legs forward, taking both his ankles in one hand sandwiching his cock between Shen Qingqiu's thighs.
"Binghe—!? This Master does not bend that way!!" protests Shen Qingqiu.
Luo Binghe presses a kiss to his master's ankle before bending his legs back further, "Of course Shizun does. This one knows exactly how flexible Shizun is, don't worry."
Shen Qingqiu lets out a low embarrassed whine, resorting to covering his face with both hands while his student makes it his mission to bend him in half, exposing his fluttering wet hole to the entire world.
Luo Binghe slicks himself up quickly before lining himself up, kissing Shen Qingqiu's hole with the hard tip of his cock. He shudders at the way the hole flutters against him, all but inviting him in. Shen Qingqiu lets out a long breathy whine as he pushes inside, Shizun's body parts like it was always meant for him. He forces himself to go slow, to give Shizun time to adjust to him.
The tight pulsing of his master's hole around his cock saws away at his self control, but he refuses to give in. He wants nothing more than to bury himself deep inside Shen Qingqiu and never leave. To spill his seed and mark the beautiful perfect man as his own in some way that can never be undone or erased.
Shen Qingqiu cries out, "B-Binghe please— its too much, too big — I can't—"
Luo Binghe tightens his grip on Shen Qingqiu's ankles. The weight of Luo Binghe's body on top of his folding Shen Qingqiu's nearly in half, his knees nearly touching his chest, Luo Binghe thrusts still deeper inside.
"Almost there—Shizun is so perfect, he can take it, I know he can," Luo Binghe babbles, bottoming out with a final deep thrust. Shen Qingqiu sobs at the overwhelming stretch, gasping out as Luo Binghe's cock presses deeply into the spot inside him that sparks stars in his vision.
"See? Shizun was made for me," Luo Binghe leans further into Shen Qingqiu as he speaks, the warmth of his breath fluttering along Shen Qingqiu's sensitive neck. "This disciple will make you feel good, okay?"
Shen Qingqiu pants, his mouth open slightly, "Hhhhh— Oh— okay—!"
Luo Binghe begins to move, grinding and thrusting shallowly. Shen Qingqiu whines weakly, overwhelmed at the fullness, the friction deep in side him. Supporting all his weight on his right forearm, Luo Binghe smothers his master in soft adoring kisses. Starting at the corner of Shen Qingqiu's jaw and spiraling outward down his neck, along the ridge of his collarbones.
Slowly he picks up the speed of his thrusts, overwhelming Shen Qingqiu in an ocean of gentle affection to distract him just a little while Luo Binghe settles into a comfortable rhythm.
In time, Shen Qingqiu melts under him; his hand comes off his face, groping blindly until he finds Luo Binghe's hand next to his. He paws at it until Luo Binghe shifts enough to allow their fingers to twine together against the mattress. Luo Binghe squeezes Shen Qingqiu's hand tightly, his weight falling harder into Shen Qingqiu's as he buries his face in the comforting warmth of his Shizun's neck.
He relishes in the sweet warmth of Shen Qingqiu's body against his, the pulsing tightness of his Shizun's hole around his cock all but sucking him in, the punched out whines shizun makes with every deep thrust, vibrating through him from every place there skin touches.
Shen Qingqiu's head lolls against the side of Luo Binghe's face, his free hand coming up to cradle the back Luo Binghe's head. His fingers tangle in the soft mane of curls with the gentleness one expects from a man holding his most prized possession.
"Ah—Binghe— My Binghe... So perfect still— ah—ah after all this time—" Shen Qingqiu's face turns in towards his, Luo Binghe feels the dampness of his Shizun's tears against his cheek as Shen Qingqiu whispers his confession. "I-I'm—ah—sorry—uah— f-for everything. I-I— It wasn't your ah—uh—fault."
His words are breathy and broken, shuddering though the reverberating thrusts of Luo Binghe's hips into the deepest parts of him, but he forces it out nonetheless, sealing his confession with a teary kiss, first on cheek, and then his lips.
"S-Shi-zun—" Luo Binghe's heart twists in his chest. Something inside of him breaks and reforms in an instant. Tears roll down his cheeks as Shen Qingqiu captures his mouth with his own.
Luo Binghe's hand releases his master's ankles, letting those legs hook over his shoulder. His now free hand comes up to cup Shen Qingqiu's face, pulling him impossibly closer still. Pushing in impossibly deeper.
Shen Qingqiu's body tightens around him, pulling him in, keeping him close. Luo Binghe shudders under the onslaught of that tightness. He pulls back just to feel the way his Shizun's body clings to him, just to feel the way Shen Qingqiu shutters at the loss of him. Thrusts back in just to feel the the way that body opens for him, dragging him deeper inside than he has any right to be.
Pleasure jolts through his spine in starlight bursts. Shen Qingqiu sings under the roving ministrations of his hands and tongue. Sweet euphoric moans that stoke the fire burning deep in Luo Binghe's stomach.
Luo Binghe pulls back from his place against Shen Qingqiu's neck—he needs to be closer, he needs more somehow.
Shen Qingqiu gives a mournful whine at the loss, the sudden rush of cold air on his fevered skin. He takes Shen Qingqiu's searching hand in his. Gives it a reassuring squeeze and a promising kiss before letting go. His Shizun's hand drops from his with obvious reluctance, but still he trusts Luo Binghe not to leave again.
He sits back on his heels, aching cock still buried deep inside his Shizun's tight hole. Luo Binghe takes the legs thrown over his left shoulder back in hand. His grip much looser then before, he guides them down, adjusting their position so that Shen Qingqiu's legs are spread wide resting over his hips. Like this, Luo Binghe can see everything. He has his Shizun laid out like a feast under him, dazed and squirming with his cock buried so deeply inside him Luo Binghe can see the barest of hint of a bulge along the plane of Shen Qingqiu's stomach.
The sight in and of itself is nearly enough to make Luo Binghe cum.
His will to see Shen Qingqiu cum on his cock is the only thing that keeps him from losing himself right there. He traces a hand down the inside of Shen Qingqiu's thigh while he regains his composure. From where he sits he can see the point of their joining, the obscene way Shen Qingqiu's hole stretches to accommodate his cock, the messy wetness of lubrication pooling along the inner seam where Luo Binghe's cock disappears deep inside his shizun.
Mesmerized, he lets his hand drifts farther down. He takes in the sweat-damp heat of their skin, the sticky mess of precum and lube oozing from Shen Qingqiu's hole, coating his cock. He runs the soft pad of his finger over the seam of their conjoining, savoring the way Shen Qingqiu's rim flutters at his touch, tightening around his cock in little waves.
Shen Qingqiu shudders bodily under the feather light touches, panting and squirming under him in a desperate attempt to get more, more, more, anything more. "Binghe, please—" he pleads, hips rolling.
Luo Binghe's eyes catch on his Shizun's dick, bouncing in time with his desperate bids for friction. Painfully engorged and woefully neglected, weeping precum onto the soft planes of Shen Qingqiu's stomach.
Luo Binghe cannot help himself: he brings his hands up cupping Shen Qingqiu's balls in the palm of his hand, rolling them gently along his fingers. Shen Qingqiu cries out and Luo Binghe is nearly bowled over by the sudden waves of his master's body contracting so tightly around his cock.
He doubles over, his core giving out on him as he falls back into his shizun's embrace. Those soft nimble hands coming up to meet him, tangling into his hair, roving over his back as Luo Binghe burrows into the inviting warmth of his master's skin, rutting once more into that tight warmth of his hole.
In this new position, Luo Binghe has free reign on the pale canvas of Shen Qingqiu's chest and stomach. A freedom he takes full advantage of, letting his mouth drift wet kisses over every inch of that canvas, letting his hands pinch and pull and scrap until the pale jade turns pink and red. Pressed chest-to-chest, Luo Binghe can feel the beat of Shen Qingqiu's heart against his own, his bleeding wound reaching out to feel his master's soft touch evermore.
Perhaps Shen Qingqiu hears his bleeding heart's plea, for his hand snakes up to rest against Luo Binghe's bandaged chest, heedless of the blood seeping into his hands.
Luo Binghe thrusts deeper, heartrending frenzy driving him forward, pressing him deeper and deeper into Shen Qingqiu's embrace. Shen Qingqiu gasps loud and high pitched as Luo Binghe rams into him again and again, head lolling back on the pillow.
One hand on Luo Binghe's chest, the other grasping his hand like a lifeline, fingers once again intertwined so tightly not even the gods could tear them apart; his back arches up off the bed as Luo Binghe slams into that perfect spot inside him, offering himself up as he cries out in overwhelming pleasure. Luo Binghe, greedy as he is, takes the offering without second thought, places his mouth over one of those dusky brown buds offered to him.
Shen Qingqiu sobs at the onslaught of sensation as Luo Binghe's tongue swirls over the aroused peak of one nipple. Luo Binghe's hand comes up to catch the other one, pinching and pulling at it till it's puffy.
Luo Binghe lets go of his right nipple with a wet pop, but Shen Qingqiu's shutter of relief is short-lived as his oh-so-filial student simply switches sides, latching on to the aching bud of his left side. He keeps nipping and sucking as if he can draw milk from Shen Qingqiu's abused body through sheer will alone.
Shen Qingqiu thrashes under the tidal wave of sensation that is his disciple. His neglected dick squeezed between their fevered bodies somehow sends more bolts of electric pleasure down to his core with every thrust, a crescendo of friction and suction bullying his fragile form into a burning core ready to burst.
Luo Binghe speeds up his thrusts, bullying his too-big cock into Shen Qingqiu's prostate again and again, synching the rhythm of his thrusts with the sweet suction of his mouth as he feels Shen Qingqiu begin to unravel underneath him. His hips buck up higher, desperate to meet Luo Binghe's cock. His chest arches wantonly, bringing his abused nipples to the mouth that suckles them so lovingly.
Luo Binghe whines low in his throat as Shen Qingqiu becomes a vice grip around his cock, as the core bursts and cum paints their stomachs.
Shen Qingqiu spasms around Luo Binghe's cock, the pulse of Shen Qingqiu's hole driving Luo Binghe forward, fucking Shen Qingqiu through the waves or pleasure deep into overstimulation chasing his own fall.
Shen Qingqiu thrashes underneath him, his high broken cries punctuating every thrust. The stimulation proves too much for him to stomach without retaliation, and he sinks his teeth hard into the meat of Luo Binghe's uninjured shoulder.
Luo Binghe screams.
His vision shatters and twists. He tries to wrench himself away as agony melts through his neck and arm. Shen Qingqiu's arms are a vice grip around him, his teeth too sharp, too long, latched deep into muscle and bone, unwilling to let go.
Blood and liquified meat begin to roll burning tracks down Luo Binghe's chest; he feels his Shizun's too-long tongue slurping and sucking over the melting remains of his shoulder with gleeful hunger.
Luo Binghe thrashes, desperate to free himself, but Shen Qingqiu is too strong, too powerfully coiled around him. He uses what extent demonic strength he has to try and roll off the bed, managing it just barely.
He takes Shen Qingqiu with him, hoping vainly that the short fall will dislodge him.
Luo Binghe falls and the world swirls around him. Shen Qingqiu rips into him, teeth and claw, as they plummet down—but the floor never comes to greet them.
A ragged cry tears itself from Luo Binghe's throat. His right arm feels too light, but still, he grips at Shen Qingqiu's. The face under his hand is not human anymore, its scaled and long, corse hair where soft obsidian once was.
The world twists once more as Luo Binghe rips the thing from his neck, an agonized cry escaping him as its long needle teeth rend free a chunk of his shoulder with it.
He tries to grapple with it, grab its head to keep it away from his soft flesh while trying to pull himself free of its tight coils. His right arm will only barely cooperate; Shredded muscles trying desperately to knit themselves back together as acid spit corrodes away more and more of his arm and chest. He barely manages to keep it from biting down on him again.
The rest of his body is left at the mercy of its tightening coils. Luo Binghe feels four of his ribs crack in quick succession. He gasps in agony as broken and bowing bones puncture deep into his lungs—blood filling them in an instant.
Luo Binghe digs his working hand into the shiny red scales fruitlessly. Harder than iron, his nails break and peel back before the scales give even an inch. He rolls heavily, ignoring the way the sharp rocks littering the cave floor scrap and dig at his acid-picked skin and tear at what remains of his clothes. He puts all of his demonic strength into trying to get some advantage on the creature.
By some dumb luck it works. His right arm— more blood, bone and tattered muscle at this point— hangs uselessly at his side, but still he pins the creatures head between his thighs. It screams in rage, thrashing wildly under him, squeezing its coils tighter and tighter.
Blood floods his mouth as six more ribs pop in quick succession. His vision swirls and blackens. He chokes on his own blood, but Luo Binghe refuses to yeld. Even as the coils tighten and the head thrashes he rides beast the underneath him.
Luo Binghe growls, blood and spittle dripping from his mouth. He yanks at the hot rage, the deep animal desperation to survive, to win, to rip and maim. Demonic qi pours though him.
His blood obeys.
It crawls towards his working hand like it has a mind of its own. Pours from his mouth and wounds and wraps itself around his left hand before solidifying into long rending claws. Sharper than the teeth that had ripped his flesh from his bones.
The beast howls as Luo Binghe's claws dig in between its iron scales and scrape at the soft fragile flesh below.
Luo Binghe hooks his claws into writhing flesh, gouging deep into the creature's throat. Scales clink and chime against the stone walls as he rips chunks of flesh from the wailing thing.
Luo Binghe's claws hiss and steam against the creature's own blood. It eats away at his bloody claws, dissolving them in the acid bloodbath only to be quickly reformed by the blood rushing from his wounds.
He rips chunk after chunk of meat from the creature's snake-like body. He has the upper hand now, but the beast's coils are still wrapped too tightly around him, its bottom half seeming determined to crush the life out of him still, despite the bloody state of its head.
It tightens around him impossibly more; the head has long gone limp and silent under his own animal rage, but even so it fights him, the death throes of an animal four times his size still perfectly capable of crushing him to death.
Luo Binghe pulls his bloody claws from inside the creature's throat, wrestling one of its needle teeth free of its shattered jaw and imbedding it deep in under the creature's underbelly where it is wrapped around his hips. He wrenches a handful of scales free to bare the soft meat under them.
Wheezing for breath under the tightening coils, Luo Binghe digs his blood claws deep into the flesh till his hand wraps around the bony spine inside. Uncaring of the acid eating away at his blood and flesh, he crushes the spine in his hand, tearing the creature apart from the inside. The spasming muscles of the dead beast thrash as more and more of it is severed from itself, letting Luo Binghe shove the top half of the snake off him, flinching as acid blood smears against his face.
Perhaps he throws it off too hard as it crashes into the cave wall beside him, but Luo Binghe cannot care. He struggles free from the bottom half of the dismembered beast's coils, falling hard on the bloody cave floor.
Using what little strength he has left, he rolls himself onto his back, and kick the twitching remains of the creature away from him.
Chest heaving, Luo Binghe stares blankly up at the cave ceiling. His cock aches still, pressed against the scraps that remain of his pants. If it wasn't for all the blood, there would probably be a wet spot too. His mind catches up to his body slowly.
It wasn't real. None of it.
Of course it wasn't, even dreaming he should have known it. Shizun could never love a demon like him. Shizun would never say those things to him. Would never let Luo Binghe touch him, worship him like that. It was just the pathetic, desperate dream of a pathetic, desperate mutt.
He lays there in a puddle of acid blood; he feels it eating away the flesh on his back.
Feels his own demonic blood try to knit him back together before the acid burns it away again.
His right arm has itchy patches of new skin already.
The Wound on his heart weeps once more. Luo Binghe wonders if the acid could kill him if he stays here long enough.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
He doesn't move.
The cave is silent now.
His ragged breathing the only sound left to accompany him as hell screams endlessly in the distance.